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by FloingMachines



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angie and Steve meet, Death Fic, F/F, F/M, Funeral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3438956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloingMachines/pseuds/FloingMachines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peggy finally dies, Steve meets someone at the funeral and they begin talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Sorry.

            Steve Rogers was in a black tuxedo, sitting in a pew next to Tony Stark, staring towards the front of the church where there was an open casket. He closed his eyes and willed his hands to stop shaking as each moment passed.

            He clamped his hands together and bowed his head and a hot tear slipped out. He quickly wiped it away and pressed his lips together as Tony looked at him, a look in his eyes as if to ask _are you going to be okay?_

            The simple answer was that he wasn’t going to be okay. Maybe if they ever made a time machine and he could go back to where he belonged he would be all right, and maybe reach the promise land of okay.

            But now as he sat in a church, he knew in his heart that he would never be all right in this day. He could never be okay when he knew that Peggy Carter was in the open casket.

            “Are you okay?” Tony asked out loud this time, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

            “Yeah.” He forced a small smile that was far from convincing, but Tony didn’t probe the subject. If there was one redeeming quality about him, he knew that he had to let some things be.

            The church was packed with family members and assorted co-workers, but no one that seemed to be related to her otherwise. However, both Steve and Tony turned around as they heard heels clicking on the smooth floor and saw an old woman walking down in a black dress.

            She sat in the same pew as the two men and they didn’t know what to say. They both sat there, trying to wrap their minds around what was going on.

            “I know who you are.” She said, her voice slightly rasping. “You’re Captain America.” She placed her hand over his and looked into his eyes. “It’s going to be alright.”

            “Who are you?” Tony asked, peering behind Steve’s back.

            “You could say that I’m one of her close friends.”

           

* * *

 

            Two weeks after the funeral, Steve Rogers had fallen into a routine. He was hollow and he was empty, but he had to do something with his life. So he went about most of his week like he normally would, but there was always something missing.

            Every Wednesday he had visited Peggy, he had watched the decline of her health, and then he had watched her die. Now, he didn’t know what to do with himself so had fallen into a routine.

            He carried out his week as usual and then on Wednesday at exactly four in the afternoon, he visited her grave with a bouquet of roses. Every Wednesday, he would make sure he didn’t get there before four because before four, there was always someone else. It was the woman from the church who would always leave a bouquet of flowers before him.

            Two weeks later, it dawned on him maybe to ask the woman who she was. The idea intimidated him, but maybe she knew something or maybe she didn’t or maybe she would be able to talk to him and understand.

            So that Wednesday he got there at exactly ten minutes to four and got out of the car and shook slightly as he held the bundle of flowers close to his chest and sat down next to the woman.

            “Captain,” She said, acknowledging him, but never looking over.

            “Miss.” He replied, putting the flowers next to hers.

            “You’re early.”

            “I know.” He sighed and hung his head.

            “I’m Angie Martinelli, if you were wondering.” She laughed slightly. “Do you want to talk about it?” She looked at him and felt a pang of sympathy. The death was obviously hard on him, as it was on everyone and just like him; she wanted to know his story. She then took out a small notepad and jotted down an address and pressed it into his hands. “If you ever want to talk, come see me. I can make coffee, tea, I know she liked tea, basically just about anything.”

            She stood up and left, and looked at him. Without saying another word she walked back to her car.

 

* * *

 

            The address haunted Steve for another week after their confrontation. He pinned it to his bulletin board and look at it every so often, tempted to drive to the address. He would then shake his head and walk away, every so often glancing back at it before asking a simple _why_?

            Until one day, he couldn’t take it anymore and ripped the address off the wall, angrily got in his car, and began to drive towards the address. Fifteen minutes later, he was parked in front of some apartments, got out and rang the buzzer.

            “Who is it?” The voice crackled over the intercom.

            “It’s…uh.” He paused and scratched his head. “It’s Steve Rogers.”

            The door buzzed open and he walked up the stairs to the fifth floor and knocked on her apartment door, holding a single flower in his hand as she let him in.

            “Tea?” She asked as he handed her the rose.

            “Black? A little bit of sugar?”

            “That would be nice.” He sat down at the kitchen table.

            “I suppose you came to talk.” She said.

            “Yeah.”

            “She told me about you, you know. She told me how you promised her a dance that she was never able to get. Were you able to dance with her?”

            “No.” She answered quietly. “Who were you to her?”

            Angie sighed and poured tea into two mugs and sat down across from Steve. “I loved her, same as you of course. He lived together for a long time before I was dragged out to Hollywood.”

            “You were an actress?”

            She laughed. “You missed all of that. I started of Broadway and ended up on Hollywood. We went our separate ways when that happened, but recently I had come back to New York and found her in bad health. It was truly a shock; I heard from family that she was active and healthy until she hit her early nineties. It was almost as if it had happened overnight.” She sighed a little bit and sipped her tea. “Almost like it was on purpose.”

            “When I crashed, what did I miss?”

            “Basically the turn of the century.” She laughed a little and then it turned bittersweet. “She was pretty broken when I met her. Told me that she worked at the phone company.”

            “The _phone company_?”

            “She worked for the SSR, she later told me this. Then she told me about something called SHIELD, which I can’t help but think is related to yours. And then she started telling me about Captain America.”

            “Oh.”

            “It went on for a few days. She couldn’t keep it in anymore; it was about three solid days of hardly leaving the one room at Stark’s place and she just cried it out. I had to let her, I hardly knew what else to do. Then when she was done she told me she was afraid of loving anyone else ever again.” Steve was watching the old woman intensely as she told the story; he watched her eyes fill with sadness as she told it. “And then she told me that she loved me and that it was going to be the end of all of us.”

            “Then what happened?” He asked quietly, following her gaze.

            “We were living at Stark’s place. We were in love and she was happy, but she was always bittersweet Agent Carter who still definitely had a troubled past. Eventually Howard died and we had to move out and Hollywood tore us our separate ways. I never had a family, but I know she did and I’m glad she was able to continue with her life. But I don’t believe she was ever completely over you.”

            “I just wish I could go back.” Steve said. “I just wish I could go back.”

            She gathered his hands in hers and looked at him. She was crying ever so slightly, it was nearly undetectable as the pale tear dripped down her face. “Don’t we all.”

 

           


End file.
